Lab Rats
by Rock n' roll addict
Summary: bout Max  her flock in When the Wind Blows?  Wut hapns wen The School's experiments start catching up to Max?  Were they to test who would save the world between da 1st 2 hybrids, Max and Adam?  Check it out.
1. Nightmares

Disclaimer: Sorry, folks. Max and her flock ain't mine. It's all JP's.

Have you ever had recurring nightmares? Well, I have….

Clink. Stainless steel clamps snap as they fasten on my wrists and ankles, the cool metal warming against my body. The School. Of course. Who would have it any other way?

_Break Free!_ The steel clangs as my legs and arms surge forward to free myself, muscles, veins, and tendons popping out. Nope, no go. This stuff's really strong. _C'mon! You can break through this! You've done it before!_

Go ahead and guess why they use stainless steel. It's not that hard to guess, so don't be too creative.

Yep, it's so they can efficiently clean the blood off their shiny, torturous toys. Heartless bastards. Everything's sterilized so that fewer infections occur. That's the least of your problems in a place like this, trust me.

Surveying the room, I see the basic medical equipment quietly bleeping in the background. Then I spot Adam from my flock, laid out on a metal table next to me, out cold.

Is he…? My heartbeat halted for a split second. I can tell because I was hooked up to a monitor where the green line went limp for said time.

No. He's still breathing. Adam's chest rose up and down and I relax a little, but only a little.

"Adam!" I yell, "Adam, can you hear me!" My voice pierced through the too quiet room.

He didn't even stir. That's never good in this sort of place. I begin shouting anxiously like a maniac for him to wake up, but he never heard me. I don't see any bruising, cuts, or bumps on him – that means he didn't put up a fight. Maybe he's been tranquilized. Why wasn't I?

Both of us are wearing our "Smocks"; you know, the ones they give patients before surgery, but covered in the back so your butt doesn't stick out. They're uniforms to label the School's lab rats. In a word, moi.

Everything itches inside of me with nervous anticipation like a million bugs scratching their hairy feet underneath my skin. I can feel myself shaking as the cold sweats slide off my forehead and down my neck, making me slippery. Even with all of this fun stuff going on, I still can't squeeze out of these stupid clamps.

I look to my left see the words **Laboratory 401** blinking blood red against the shiny metal door and I scream my lungs out like a fire siren, _Mayday! Mayday!_ _Red Alert! Red Alert! _My heart constricts and sinks into cold dread - we're in the unstable experimentation room, where mutant children go in and disappear. Code phrase: put to sleep. Literal phrase: murdered. _Not here. Anywhere but here_.

I struggle, my muscles push to the limit as I thrash around, pummeling myself like a rag doll hard against the operation table, only to make my wrists and ankles rub raw and bloody. My body writhes hysterically as my face turns beet red from lack of oxygen. I feel my brain mash in its fluids against my skull from head banging against the unmoving table, but I don't care. All that matters is getting my hybrid bird ass out of this place.

_Get me out of here! They're gonna kill me! GONNA KILL ME!_

I let out a deafening frustrated roar in the morgue-like room. A man with glasses, a white coat, and sanitation mask appears above me and stands hazily, blocking the metallic, bright lights, watching me squirm. _Why didn't I hear him coming?_ I feel a prick in my right arm and glance down to see a gleaming needle protrude and then slip out, the syringe empty.

The greenish liquid enters my bloodstream. Excruciating pain in my veins ignite, quickly spreading throughout my body. No amount of Tabasco sauce can amount to this. Everything tingles and it feels like I'm boiling and sizzling alive! I hear jerky beeps spit out of the monitor. My heartbeat keeps accelerating until I think it'll tear right out of my chest. _Somebody help me! I'm burning in hell! _

My mind pounds with so much pressure I can practically feel my skull splinter, about to explode into a million shattered pieces, fluids seeping out of the cracks, brain matter splattering like clumps of hamburger meat. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I violently shake into uncontrollable convulsions. Blood bursts out my nose and I feel the warm liquid running past my cheeks, dripping wetly down my temples as I quake. I'm spitting shit out of my mouth like a freaking volcano, half choking in my own blood.

_Hold it. Stop shaking! Don't give up that easy!_ My nails are digging deep incisions into my shoulders as I try to hang on to steady the shakes, cutting deeper and deeper.

My jaw aches from clenching it so tight. Grunting, I think my teeth are going to crack…

Then, agony suddenly recedes, slowly, from wherever it came from and my eyes are flooded into a grayish blur. I see two dark figures hovering over me as my vision shifts, making me nauseous.

"Very good," a floating voice mutters, "It has survived its first test."

_Test?_ My eyes flutter shut and I black out into sweet darkness with those words echoing in my eardrums.

"Nooo!" I moaned, distressed. My eyes pop open, the words still on my lips. Frantically checking the area, I see my flock: Icarus, Matthew, Peter, and Wendy asleep in the cave we found. That is, except for Ozymandias, who's staring right at me. He was on watch.

"The dream again?" he asked mildly.

"Yeah," I replied, still taking in deep breaths from hyperventilating. My shirt clung to me, soaking wet from having the cold sweats. With my gaze hung downwards toward the stony floor, I tried to calm myself. I had to keep reminding myself that it was all dream. Just a dream.

Only, it kind of wasn't. It was from my past at the incarnation of hell, the School. A memory back when I was about four and Peter and Wendy weren't born yet. Back when Adam was still one of us and not a traitor. My mind suddenly went numb.

Oz was quietly watching me when he said, "You really need to cut that out."

"You think?" I retorted, "It seems I forgot to switch the Dream Channel to comedy tonight." I took a deep breath, exhaling loudly, and focused on the rocky ground.

"Shit." I muttered. He could hear the bitterness in my voice. More silence.

Wordlessly, I got up. Walking to the mouth of the cliff, I looked below and sat down. The view of an enormous, shale lake under you a couple hundred feet up was definitely relaxing, Zen even. Moonlight cast the whole valley into a bluish white glow, making it look like a painting. It was beautiful. Bits of my nightmare were still mulling around in my head incoherently.

"You okay, Max?" Oz ventured.

I sighed deeply. "I'm fine. Just tired of having the same dreams, ya know."

**The dreams are necessary so you remember your past. Let go so you can meet your destiny, your future, head on**. Tiredly, I started to get irritated at the ever-present voice. _Yeah, yeah. Voice, you're a broken record, aren't you. Try learning some new songs_.

"Max?"

"Hmmm?" I must've dazed off again.

"What ever happened to you and Adam when you guys stayed in Room 401?" He queried, his intense, dark eyes looking directly into mine. I stared at him for a second. The question actually surprised me. Usually, we never talk about this kind of stuff. Everyone in the flock knows it stirs unwanted memories, especially when it comes to Adam. It's kind of a forget-while-you still-can/out of sight, out of mind sort of thing. Guess it's not foolproof.

"Tests that were meant to make us stronger." I curtly replied, trying to divert the real question.

"And?" Oz hedged. His gaze was locked on mine, he really wanted to know. I don't blame him; I've been having these dreams for years, only they're way more vivid and frequent now because of my newly installed, pesky voice.

I groaned, picking at the rocky edge with my fingertips and letting loose pieces sprinkle down.

Maybe I should tell him. He's my best friend and if I can't trust him, who can I trust? Right? Holding my breath for a few moments, I prepared myself and him for a secret I've been holding in since we escaped from the School four months ago. Here we go.

"And it was where he and I were tested to see who would save the world."

Please review - Kinda curious to see what I get.


	2. Wakey Wakey

Well, _that _wasn't a jaw dropper. Oz just stared at me incredulously like I was a circus freak with two heads; his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. Okay, maybe I was a freak, but with wings, but so was he… you know what, nevermind. He probably had the same expression I did when the backstabber Uncle Tommy told me back at the School. Anyway, after what seemed like five minutes dragging along, I snapped my fingers in front of him and said, "Ozzy, snap outta it. Say somethin'."

His eyes dulled and refocused on mine, as if he suddenly became sober. "Wha?" he began, "how do you know this for sure?"

"Uncle Tommy dropped the bomb when he let me out of my cage to talk to him." A glint of realization flashed in his eyes for a split second it seems like he remembered or understood. Unconsciously, I started scratching my tag number on my underarm that read, F98 3834. It was a habit I've had since I was a little kid, noticing, I stopped. Old habits die hard, I guess.

They tattooed it on all of us kids when we were wee babies – yet another demeaning notion to show us that all of us experiments were miniscule and could be killed in a second if we didn't serve our purpose, which was never fun or painless.

Ozzy slouched a little against a cool cave wall, seeming to chill out a bit and asked, "Okay, then what did our good 'ol pal Uncle Tommy tell you at The School?" 'Ol pal was spoken with a hint of bitter sarcasm.

I glanced down at my wrist watch, which I suggest all of you OCD mental patients like myself acquire. It's really handy – water resistant. You like? Hmmm, 1:30 a.m. That should be enough time to explain before the rest of the flock woke up.

I gave Ozzy the quick lowdown. Now, I'm gonna give you readers one as well since we kinda jumped into this whole ordeal a smidge blindly. Good thing Icarus isn't awake, or else he'd try to beam me for that comment.

Oz or Ozymandias is 14, Icarus 14, Matthew 11 (my biological brother), Peter 6, Wendy 6 (Wendy and Peter are twins), and I (Max/ Maximum) 14 also, are hybrid experiments engineered to fly by splicing our human DNA with powerful avian birds. Oh yeah, that treacherous weasel, Adam, is a mutant as well and he's 15. We were given hollow, light bones, larger and more efficient lungs and heart, are made of mostly muscle, and me and Wendy have no ahem… human breasts because we are oviparous. For those who don't know the definition, it means that our babies will _hatch_ from eggs. Our index and middle fingers are connected and we have a little bit of webbing between our toes for flanking. We also have acute hearing and sight as well as exponential strength. Bonus, we're all geniuses. Hey, it's all the simple necessities to be a perfect design for a flying freak.

Since we were born, we were held at this inhumane hellhole called The School. There they experimented on us without mercy everyday where each of us was all returned to our cramped cages without any natural sunlight. Sometimes, they would allow us in the Activity Room, a scarily sterile, white room where there was an ancient television and a table where we were given intelligence tests, which we all apparently scored off the charts. Books with such authors like Aristotle, Shakespeare, Emily Dickenson, Cicero, Thomas Harris, and my personal favorite, James Patterson, were distributed to us when in the crates to help keep us from becoming even more insane. It was either read or crawl into the fetal position and cry your eyes out for hours. Call me strange, but I spent my time trying to escape this place instead inside the world of books.

In this land of suffering, little children and babies would die regularly in extraordinary pain on a daily basis, no kidding. Gorgeous babies that would be perfectly fine otherwise were turned into freaks that were usually labeled into horrible failures category. One day you'd have a kid next to you and the next he/she/it would be replaced with another one the next. My flock and I were the only consistent hybrids that didn't self destruct and we bonded into a small family. In there, the question, "Aren't we cute and innocent?" meant absolutely nada. You were a number.

When I was eleven, my brother Matthew and I escaped the horrid place by hightailing it out of there when we were about to be transferred to the Activity Room. We split up shortly after getting out of the facility in different directions. Eventually, this lady, Frannie, and her friend, Kit, caught me in a net and gave me a dose of ketamine. And no, they weren't from The School, they were actually really kind people that made me feel like an actual person instead of just a lab rat. We went back to the unmentionable place to get the rest of my flock, who were almost starved when we arrived because the lousy whitecoats pulled the plug on everything and skedaddled to leave it all to die. Meanwhile, psychopathic loser whitecoat cronies with expertise in tracking and specialized weaponry were after us until everything went to hell in a basket, stuff combusted amazingly and we all stayed in a hidden lake house with Kit and Frannie for a while.

On my twelfth birthday, we were discovered by those lunatics and Kit and Frannie were both shot to death in the middle of the night after our family dinner. Kit had taught us several self defense styles, which we recently mixed with some break dancing moves we learned in NYC. He also showed us some tracking and military/air force tactics that helped us survive. We all ran and flew for it, but Kit got shot in the head and Frannie had her spleen punctured, so she didn't last long.

Adam went missing and we couldn't find him when we went back the next day. They cremated the place, all the evidence, including bodies. We assumed the worst and mourned in our own different ways. Being the oldest, I took the head banana role and did my best to keep us together and healthy. Little did we know that he joined the dark side and would eventually attempt to kill us with his merry band of dumb-ass Erasers five months ago. Asshole.

Speaking of traitors, Uncle Tommy was a whitecoat who we though was our friend. The two-faced, elusive Uncle Tommy was thought dead after we saw his head explode from hitting it on a branch in a car going 85 mph and blew up the place we were held captive. No, not The School, but some other complex, hidden in a remote Colorado area that we were held for prisoners for a while. But of course, we blew that place to smithereens and the Feds discovered The School's evil plot. We thought we witnessed Uncle Tommy's death, but there he was at the new School four months ago. Creepy, I know.

Erasers are wolf and human hybrids who are the only other successful mutants other than the flock and me, at least, as far as I know. Think of them as the modern day werewolves, except they can morph willingly. Upon being ruthless hunters that are actually smart, but luckily, not as smart as us, so we make challenging prey. Four months ago, they actually caught us and brought us to the reconstructed School in Colorado, from where we escaped from… again. Plus, I was told this earth-shattering save the world bid, which I totally needed, right? Oh, and let's not forget the fun voice and killer headaches to install it to top it off. Now we're on the run… again.

Alrighty, now that you're all caught up with us, let's get on with the story. Current major problem (one of many): Staying alive when an ex-flock member is trying to kill you because he wasn't the one chosen to save the world. Damn that sibling-like rivalry. As if I wanted the job anyway.

Additional issue: Save the world. Unfortunately, there is no website of How to Save the World from Meglomaniacs. Bummer.

I looked down at my watch again – 5 a.m. Time to wakey wakey. With affection, I kicked everyone's rear in gear to get up and started the fire up again. Oz was already awake and helped me out. Everyone gathered around the hypnotizing fire sleepily. Wings were out, all twelve white with the luminescence of mother of pearl.

"Max?" Wendy asked in her thick layered morning voice, "What's for breakfast?" She was wiping sleep out of her Asian, almond shaped eyes with her knuckles.

"The exquisite Ball Park hotdogs ala Max, my dear." I replied in a cheesy Italian accent. I burst out laughing. Wendy and Matthew wore a concerned and slightly horrified expression.

Peter made the noise from horror flicks when the murderer's stabbing someone. "Eeee! Eeee!" Did I mention that Peter can mimic any noise, any voice? Well, now you know. Wiping a mass of blond hair out of my face, I gave Peter a death glare. He smiled back.

Icarus took over. "Max, settle down now. Just give me the hotdogs… and no one gets hurt." He said that in a mock tone as if I were a crazy person with a gun with his hand up. I chuckled and threw the package toward him. Even as a blind bird kid, he caught them with no problem, one handed, too. Snaps for Icky.

He handed out our trusty cooking sticks we found last night and some hot dogs. I sat between Matty and Oz on the ground, legs criss crossed, ruffling Matt's filthy blond hair, and then roasted my weenie. I know that was an awkward sentence, but let's move on, shall we?

"So, what's the big plan today, boss?" Matty asked cheerfully with his mouth stuffed with mushed charcoaled hotdog. Three were impaled by his stick, roasting _in_ the fire. Oz looked at me, thoughtfully, curious as well.

I was just about to take a bite of my own hotdog when a nova of pain spiked through my skull. Pushing my palms on my temples, I heard, **LA. Head to LA**. Voice.

_Why? What the hell's there?_ I thought irritably.

**Really, you must handle your language a little better than that, Maximum. **

_Voice, if you can see me now, I'm scowling. And by the way, FUCK YOU! _

"What's that face for, Max?" Oz asked. Right now the whole flock was watching me with real concerned faces, even Ic.

"Nothing." I pointed to my forehead. "Voice again." Everyone slowly went back to munching and roasting when the Voice pulled me back into discussion.

**Earth to Maximum. You got a mission here to save the world. A mission of which I don't think you grasp the enormity. One of the main branches from the company about to blow everyone up with nukes is there. **

_California. Hmmm. What's the lethal corporation, Voice? _I questioned, patronizing it. _Let me guess... Disney! I knew they'd take over the world. Never trust a talking bunny or a tasty green apple. Take humans and personified woodland creatures bad news._

**CosiCom**. The word echoed in the caverns of my ears and the Voice was gone.

I heard Matty's voice. "So, where we headed, Max?" Don't ask me how he knew I was finished with my little schizo conversation. Sometimes I think him and Oz have the gift of reading minds along with Wendy. They knew me so well.

"LA." I said with decent enthusiasm and took a bite of my hotdog.

Reviews would be sweet. Tell me what's thumbs up and down.


	3. Here comes trouble

Can I talk about flying with unbridled joy without sounding like I'm on an acid trip? Not sure, therefore, I won't go into too much detail.

Flying felt so natural, all instinct. Sometimes I wondered how I stay up when I'm not telling myself to flap. A refreshing updraft blew our way and all of us coasted with ease and smiles on our faces. We were heading slightly northwest, just passing over Utah. Colorado was left in our proverbial dust.

"Hey, Icky. Turn on the music." Matty urged. He took out the five dollar speakers we purchased from a K-Mart in Colorado out of his backpack. He plugged in the iPod mom and dad gave us for our first Christmas. Our favorite play list blared out of the tiny speakers. Flying a mile high in the air, only we could hear it.

Each of us was mouthing the words to "Highly Evolved" by The Vines. Peter was singing along, sounding damn near perfect to Craig Nicolls. "I'm feeling so happy, so highly evolved… My time's a riddle that will never be solved…dreaming for somethin'… reachin' for somethin'…just waitin' for the sun to carry me in." Peter air-drummed with his pointer fingers. Matty was doing a spazzy little number that made me want to squeeze in dancing lessons in our daily schedule between the simple luxuries of Stay Alive and Find Food.

Ozzy flew in front of the flock. "Hey, folks. This is Ozymandias and I will be your tour guide for the next five minutes." He placed his had on the side of his mouth and whispered, "We never last long, do we?"

"Now, if you look a thousand feet below you to the right, you'll see the dazzling Salt Lake City. This beloved state capital is known for its wild cowboy parties and…" Oz's eyes grew to the size of a couple of baseballs.

"Holy shit! Look out! It's a 747 headed right at us! Fly with me if you wanna live!" The kids screamed in delight as they swerved out of the invisible plane's way. I saw Oz still hovering where the supposed aircraft passed, arms crossed.

"Oh no, kiddies! Looks like Oz just got splattered into bug juice all over the windshield." I fake grimaced. The little ones laughed and Oz shot me the bird, smiling.

Oz flew right next to me after the fiasco died down. He was so close that we had to pay attention to stroke patterns as to not hit each other. "So, what's in LA?" he asked.

"Cosicom." I replied in a low voice. I was hoping on having a good plan formulated next time one of the smaller flock members asked me what it was. But, that was too much to hope for, right?

"Cosicom?" Icarus nearly shouted. He loved to see me squirm sometimes. The rest of the flock turned to me.

"Isn't that those Japanese pilots that crash their planes on purpose?" Peter asked of no one in particular.

"That's kamikaze, idiot." Wendy pointed out. "Cosicom's a big, big corporation in the medical biz. They have posts in Japan, Italy, England, Russia, and in the US of A." She stretched her hands out wide to show the company's metaphoric size. Icarus whistled in astonishment. Geez, kids these days know flippin' everything nowadays.

"Screw you." Peter muttered under his breath. Having excellent ears, Wendy heard it clearly and Peter knew it.

Wendy turned perpendicular to Peter and rammed him from the side with her shoulder. "What'd you say, jerk?"

"You heard me." Peter countered, puffing out his chest. Man, that was it.

"Come here, dummy." The twins launched themselves at each other, trying to kick each others winged butt. I looked around at Oz, Ic, and Matt and they were doing absolutely nothing to prevent this mini brawl. Time for peacemaker Max to step in.

Flying toward the back of the V, I pushed myself in between them, which is not as easy as it sounds. I accidentally got slapped in the face by Wendy and kicked in the leg by Peter. Feeling the minor stings, I lowered the tone in my voice, "Guys, just chill out and quit trying to kill each other. Before I kill you."

Giving them each an authoritative glare of the parental you-better-behave-yourself variety, I flew ahead of the flock again. The twins nodded solemnly like children in trouble, which they were. Knuckle-heads.

"What's at Cosicom? More deranged white coats we can blow up with some napalm?" Oz questioned. Ic and Matty exchanged high fives, remembering our last escape.

"Equal parts gasoline and orange juice concentrate." Icarus piped in gleefully. He and Matthew began digging in their packs, taking inventory of their homemade explosives. This stuff isn't in any World History book, folks, so don't look for it. Man-bird make fire.

"Wouldn't have it any other way. Don't forget a nasty, greedy overlord who eats little children for breakfast." I answered, rolling my eyes. Peter and Wendy gave a pretend shutter.

I looked back at the flock and saw a flea-like blur coming straight toward us at about 200 mph, quickly becoming an ant-sized blur. The mob of Erasers weren't too far behind him. There was like twenty of them. They must've had a head start.

"We got company, guys."


	4. What just happened?

"Shit," Icarus cursed, "it's the Jackass Wonder." He turned off the boom box.

"Air raid! Air raid!" Matthew shouted. In two seconds we got into formation. Countdown: Five… Four… Three… Two… ONE.

"Hello, Max." Adam was only twenty feet away from us when he kicked his legs forward to a stop. His silky voice alone made me want to pummel his face 'til it caved in. "Long time no see." He looked at me with his dark eyes.

"Not long enough." Oz muttered, murderously. His eyes locked on Adam's and Adam stared him down condescendingly. He turned back toward me.

"Heading to LA?" Adam asked. I dodged his question.

"Geez, do I haveta call the coppers on you? I mean, I think we have our very own uber-obsessed stalker that just can't take a hint." I spat at him with shards of steel in my voice – stainless steel to be exact.

"I'm just having a conversation with some old friends." he offered coolly.

"Who are you calling 'old', grandma?" Wendy countered, "You're bloody ancient. Emphasis on _bloody_." The whole flock wanted a piece of this chump.

"I'll put this into 'Moron' terms so that even you can understand it, numb nuts," I said, venom seeped into every word. Peter snickered at 'numb nuts'.

"You can take that conversation and shove it right up your Tweedy Bird ass." I got approving nods from the flock. Now I was getting slightly worked up.

"We'll even help you out with that." Oz broke in with a flat, deadly tone.

Adam shrugged, as if letting it all roll right off his shoulders. Not even a fluster. What he said next, monotonously, was, "Fine. Have it your way."

Without notice, he tackled me low like a linebacker at full speed. I cringed as I felt a few ribs crack. **Get through the pain, Maximum. Pain is only a message to the brain so you won't destroy your body**.

Clenching my jaw, I grabbed his ear and pulled, trying to tear it off his _bloody_ head. He swung at me, loosening his grip, but I dodged it and came at him quick with a flying side kick to the stomach. Backing up a few strokes, he coughed and came darting back in.

Wendy had eight of the Erasers, confused, fighting each other like the Three Stooges, poking each other in the eyes. Ooooh. Wise guy.

Matty took on three, Ozymandias four, and Icarus had three at a time. Little Petey had two, the numbers alternated respectively. Each was holding their own against the petty messengers from hell. Matty took a bite out of one's ear Mike Tyson style and the Eraser screamed in agony before he started drastically losing altitude. With a disgusted expression, Matthew spit it out and announced grimly, "Guys, Erasers DO NOT taste like chicken." Hysterically, he began spitting out blood before another one caught him with an uppercut to the chin.

Meanwhile, Adam and I were caught in a flutter of powerful punches and kicks. That is, until he backed up and charged at me toward the ground at 210 mph. _Hwooof_! He knocked the wind out of me as thick wisps of air whooshed passed us. I struggled against his tightly wound bear hug because my wings were mashed against him and I knew he'd let go only when it was time to save himself. Normally, I would have attempted to claw his eyes out, but he clamped over my arms, clasping his own hands together in a death grip around me. The ground was zooming in closer and closer at a rapid speed. Too close for comfort. Talk about mortal combat.

We were only 200 feet from the dusty floor. Arching my back, I back kicked him hard between the legs and slid out of his grasp. He let out and solid _oof_ and we both pulled up at thirty feet from the desert ground. I quickly decided to head low into a large grouping of giant, orange sherbet colored rocks. He couldn't use his flying super speed on me there. Directing myself downward, I prepared for landing.

Both of us came down running. The roars of hybrid war above sounded like demonic gurgling. Coming to a halt, I turned around and saw him still charging at me. _Wait for it_. Just when Adam was about to lunge, I dropped to my hands and did a back handspring, cradling his body on my shins as I fell back and used his body force and a little of my own added to aim him straight toward an elephant-sized boulder.

His back hit it first and I heard a snap. _Good. I hope that hurt like hell_. Rising, he still kept on coming like the Energizer Bunny on caffeine. _Damn, he's just as stubborn as I am_.

_Kick. Kick. Block. Punch_. It was just like sparring with Kit again, except Kit never tried to kill me. I imagined that his blows were just tiny pebbles tapping me. Spinning into a roundhouse kick, I targeted his obliques. Unfortunately, Adam was ready for it and caught my leg with one arm.

_Ouch! Ouch! OW!_ Now he was proceeding to twist it. Hearing a pop sound, pain shot through my leg. I then pushed off with my other foot and pivoted to kick him on the side of his head and hit a temple. Ignoring my throbbing leg, I backed up and sprinted toward him with his back towards me and flung myself into a high front flip, pulling his L.L. Bean jacket over his head, tugging it fiercely.

He toppled over like a bunch of bowling pins. _Strike! That's what you get for being such a loser._

Out of freaking nowhere, I was hit over the head like a bat by blinding pain. I shut my eyes and pushed my palms into my pounding temples. Cold sweat stung my eyes. Pangs of lightning seared through my brain and I was caught in a dizzying swirl of unintelligible images, superimposed. I felt something warm running down my face.

Then, I felt another kind of agony, from my stomach was being stomped on. Adam. _Come back! Don't be a wuss_. Exerting every last disciplinary sizzling neuron in my brain, I ordered myself back into terrifying reality. I rolled away from Adam's next blow and dove behind an enormous rock.

My vision was still blurry like dripping water color paints. Parts focused and blurred, making me want to chuck. I felt solid ground plow into my side and kept maneuvering around it so Adam wouldn't get me too badly. Attempting to keep my head above water, I felt I was drowning. Right now, I was his personal punching bag. Scrambling on the floor I saw drops/smeared blood on my hands and seeped into the dusty dirt. He grabbed me by the leg and dragged me to a flat rock. There he slammed my face into it repeatedly. I threw sand in his face, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to make him angrier.

Smack.

Crunch. Bone.

Smack.

Wet smack.

Every time I made contact, it was like having a wave crash into your face, pulling you down into undercurrents. Head pounding. Take a breath. I felt my cheek and blood was pouring out of a large gash, harsh sand stuck to it. I looked at the rock and it was stained with the stuff. It crept into the cracks of my teeth. Salty. It sprayed out of my shining, wet mouth when I pleaded, "Stop! Please!"

Waves of pain paused for a moment. Adam was probably just warming up. Lightning spiked brightly, stinging neurons, setting brain hamburger meat on fire with white intensity.

Suddenly, I felt a sickening urge and tossed my cookies next to the rock that looked like an Aztec sacrifice took place on it. Out with the flooding sour, acidic vomit came the lightning and the swaying ocean. My vision returned. _Who knew the burning of your esophagus could be so sweet? _

My left eye was swollen shut. **Pain is just a message so you don't destroy your body** _Little late for that_. I saw Adam cracking his knuckles, back toward me. I did the same. _This_ pain I could handle.

Before the ass wipe knew what hit him, I swept my leg low and he fell awkwardly onto his knees. He gawked at me, complete surprised gleamed in his eyes – also, fear. _That's right, be VERY afraid_.

I punched him right at the nose and heard a crack. Blood exploded out of it, splaying everywhere. _Not mine. His_. He face-planted into the ground. A nice impression of dark red was left in the sand.

Fumbling, he attempted to claw his way away from me. _Nice try_.

I pulled the ball of my foot upwards and struck his calf with my heel, my expression ice cold. A tendon popped out of place like a rubber band and he screeched in pure agony. I stood over him, stone cold. Ice Queen.

Adam put his hands on his eyes, so I thought. With abnormal, cat-like reflexes, Adam whipped out his fist and released said fistful of salty, limestone sand into my face. My bloodshot eyes began tearing and I rubbed them frantically. Red spider webs multiplied on the whites of my eyes. The pupils on my green irises shrank. When most of it was out, I could see a dark silhouette taking off one of the rocks.

_He's not getting off that easy_. I rushed to the same rock and jumped off, unfurling my wings. They whooshed out like a fan. I sped up, hitting him upward. More bones cracked. Then, the weirdest thing happened. I was… I was flying so fast that everything around me turned into a muddy gray with random, dark streaks passing by and my ears where filled with the sound of a closely approaching plane. The pressure of the wind was pushing the skin on my bones back. _What is this?_

While I was off in this psychedelic La La Land, Adam pushed his feet off my chest and veered left where his fallen comrades were waiting for him. He was escaping like a coward. The wind violently tore me out of the surreal experience and I realized that it was difficult to breathe, even with my modified human avian lungs. I had won. **You're the one destined to save the world** drifted into my head.

I looked down and my flock was about a mile _below_ me. Letting myself drop down to where they were hovering, I wondered what the hell just happened. **Congratulations Max. You can now fly at the speed of sound**. _What?_

The flock gathered around me. Peter and Matty were still yelling at them to "Get Lost!" or threatening them that "If you ever want your butt kicked again, just come see us, wolf breath."

"What was _that_, Max?" Wendy asked uncertainly.

"I think I can fly at the speed of sound." I said softly, uncertain myself. I scratched my head, still trying to get a hold on what happened. Finally, I accepted that everything was real. "Wow." I murmured quietly.

Turning toward the flock, I saw knicks, bruises, and a couple of nasty slashes. Each were still catching their breath, but they'd be fine with a couple of antibiotics and some stitching – Frannie showed us how. She was a vet. Not to mention a Costco sized tube of Neosporin.

Hallelujah our engineered genes allowed us to heal at an exponential rate. All of these battle wounds would heal too on me, I hoped. We were survivors. Warriors. Who wants to die without a few battle scars anyway?

We watched the scaredy pups leave.

"Good news is that you have a new power." Oz said tiredly, trying to shine some light on the situation. "You even got panda eyes."

He motioned to the massive shiners on my eyes. I tried to smile, but my broken face only allowed a grimace.

Exhausted, I reported, "Bad news is… I felt like I just had a stroke/epileptic seizure."

My sluggish tongue slurred the words around in my mouth as the ocean swayed from side to side in my stomach. I felt like I was going to puke again. Tonguing the corner of my mouth, I tasted coppery, thick crusted blood. Even when my knees started to shake and my whole body was limp with random twitches, I somehow forced myself to remain standing.

Tunnel vision made me even more nauseous, but I couldn't let those bad guy bozos see me weak. Being weak is for failures. Failures die. Lesson One from The School.

When Adam and his evil crew were out of sight, I tipped to the right, gravity pulling on my wobbly legs. I dropped to the ground with a thud like a ton of bricks, unconscious.

Please Review. Tell me yay or nay.


	5. Eraser Encounter Uno

_This room is new_. It's the largest area I've ever seen of the school at about two hundred feet from all sides. Instead of the generic four walls, this room has six, count 'em, six walls. Yes, these whitecoats are expanding their tastes on interior design. Don't get me wrong, this place is still sickeningly stark white, so much so that it makes you want to throw up if you stare at it too long. I know because I'm getting dizzy doing it just now. The walls kind of blurred together with their blinding paleness.

A metal – stainless steal – door is directly in front of me. Sirens that shine red are on top of the megaphone-like contraptions. I take a whiff and recognize the familiar chemical scent, bitter and faint, but still undeniably present. They must have just power washed the walls and floor – from what? I'm afraid to ask. That stale coffee smell lingers. Yep, this room met all requirements for a testing facility. Check and check. Not to mention the fact that I have a new outfit on – a white jumpsuit, how ironic. An electronic bracelet was fastened snugly onto my right ankle. _Wonder what that's for_.

The lousy 'doctors' dragged me in here from my size regular dog crate, for experimental purposes, of course. When I had reached the lab door, it burst open and I was jerked to the side. I saw Adam rushed out of the room in a stretcher, dark red bloomed across his clothes, staining them, as I noticed deep cuts sunk in his face. His hair was matted down with sweat and his face pallor. He could barely lift his eyes toward me and murmured something I couldn't understand. Now I'm where he was.

That only means fun for me, right? My tattooed identification itches and I scratch it furiously, until it was flaming red. I'm so anxious of the next test and intensely pissed off that I let them bring me here. Although, I didn't come quietly…

I feel corner of my lip curl. Looking up, I see a scratched plexi-glass window about the size of a long lab table and three whitecoats floating above me, four-eyed and state-of-the-art laptops at hand. They resemble creepy ghosts, having those lab jackets on with that black background behind them, black as their hearts. I smile because one of them is that sadistic Dr. Riley, who is now gingerly holding an ice pack to his face with circles of red caked around his nostrils.

I nailed him with my elbow right in the schnoz.

"Test subject F98 3834 battle sequence one will now begin," the monotonous voice blared through the speakers, echoing off the gemophobically sterilized white walls, "lupus-homo encounter in 10…" _Lupus… where have I heard of that word before?_ _It's Latin._ "9… 8… 7…"

Metal chains clanging together startles me and I take a jerky step back. I listen closer, concentrating – it's source?

Behind the metal door in front of me… Rrrippph! Raaaah! Clang. Hmph… hmph… RAAAAH! The chain rattling continues. Something is desperately trying to break through the school-issued hardware. Automatically, I inch toward the farthest corner from that door.

"6…5…4… 3…" _Fight or flight? Fight or flight? _ Panicky desperation tingles through my body as my instincts try to make up their minds. If I wasn't a mutant freak, I would've been hyperventilating by now. I take a few deep breaths, clenching my fists until the insides showed indented crescent moons, the skin under my fingernails drained white. Quickly, I ready myself low to the cement ground in a sprinter's stance. White lightning adrenaline dumps into my system.

I hear the deadbolt locks click open just as the _thing's_ chains clink against the floor – they're off. Clamping my jaw shut, I begin rolling my pants and sleeves up. I still wasn't used to wearing anything different than the 'smocks'. My whole body's way hot as if it's almost ready to sizzle. My heart is beating in rhythm and I can hear them like Aztec tribal drums just before a human sacrifice. Boom, Boom, ba-Boom, ba-Boom, ba-Boom. "2…"

"One."

_Here we go_.

The metal door swings open mechanically, the door bangs firmly against the wall. All I can see is this blurry blob closing in on me from the darkness. Nails scrape the floor as it runs. Light finally shines on the thing I'm supposed to fight and I dive out of the way just before it charged right into me. My shoulder hit the ground first and I manage an awkward roll to my feet.

I turn fast to look at my enemy…

What the hell? I'm facing a freakin' werewolf?!?! Duh. Lupus means wolf.

We circle each other, shoulders taut, knees bent, deciding when to attack. Saliva oozed out of its mouth as it hungrily smacked its lips. I gulp. The look in its yellow, bestial eyes sends a million tiny shivers down my spine; this thing wants me dead, to rip my flesh and taste my blood, end of story. I narrow my eyes, staring it down. _I'm not going out that easy_.

The werewolf lunges at me in slashing motions. _Duck, duck, weave left, weave right._ For some reason, the movements came easily to me and I thought that I could actually beat this thing.

Suddenly, I find myself backed against one of the six walls. I duck, but this time it doesn't go for my head, one of its sharp claws sinks halfway into my forearm. My arm's pinned against the wall. Blood spouts freely down my arms from the gash, staining the white concrete. My eyes squeeze shut. It's taking everything I have right now not to freak out or crawl into a ball from the flooding pain. More pain signals sent. I slam my palm into its snout and rip my arm painfully out of its knife sharp claws. I start sprinting to the other side of the room.

_Get into the air!_ My breath quickens and I can feel my heart fluttering harshly. Pangs of ache pound throughout my arm. My rubber soles tap against the concrete, running.

It's still charging after me. My wings come out with a big whoosh and I hold my breath. _C'mon! C'mon!_ _Please make it in the air! Please let this be enough room for a running start!_ I feel my wings drag a bit and my feet are lifting off the ground. I angle my body toward the tall ceiling and keep flapping.

Before I could get ten feet from the ground, I hear the werewolf grunt and pounce. OWWW! The only thing I can feel are its canines digging deep into my left calf. A pitiful squeal escapes my lips and I feel myself being dragged down by the beast. My kneecaps and palms bang hard on the ground.

I try turn when it grunts angrily and pushes down a furry claw on my back. I feel my fingernails grind against the floor, trying to escape, leaving behind several chalky white trials. Struggling under its grip, my head twists behind me. The werewolf begins shaking its head violently from left to right to hold on tight to its prey, me, growling. Gritting my teeth, I feel agonizing pain shoot up my leg and can hear the heart-wrenching tearing sound of flesh ripping – my flesh ripping out of my leg...

_Fuck! Oh, God... this hurts. Soooo bad. _Tears blur my vision until everything's fuzzy blotches. It feels like I'm being dragged by the wave's undercurrents and I can't get out. I'm drowning, drowning fast. Tendons and connective tissue gone in raw masses.

_Get through this! Do NOT be a failure. Or you will die_. Ignoring the warning synapses roaring my brain, I tense my muscles use my right foot to donkey-kick it in the face, heel first. It reels back in surprise from the blow and I take the tiny extra time to bend my legs and leap into the air, wings out.

That's when I hear, "**DO NOT** LOSE, MAXIMUM," booming from the speakers in that computerized tone. The werewolf's ears perked, confused where the sound was coming from. That saved me a few more seconds. My wings are frantically flapping, propelling me higher and higher.

The bloodthirsty beast jumps toward me again, its gleaming jaws snap close a centimeter from my face. The drool splatters wetly on my cheek. Whirling around, I round kick my toe into its temple, making it yelp. A smile broke out on my face. _I know what to do now._

Looking down, I realize that I'm dripping all over the place, red splashes down my leg. Luckily, it's numb now. Enough nerves must've been destroyed to not send pain messages anymore. _Good._

I reach the ceiling about two hundred feet above the creature and my feathers automatically realign so I can swoop back down. I remembered something Uncle Tommy told me: **Peregrine falcons can kill a bird in the air, flying at it 120mph**. Arching down fast, the rushing wind makes my eyes tear, the monster getting closer. I have only one shot. _Aim for the head._ Feet out, I ram right my sneakered foot into it, hard. I feel my foot connect and the sickening crack of a neck snapping. Blood erupts from its nose. A look of shock still on its face; it crumples to the ground instantly.

My stomach churns acid.

Clumsily, I break my landing, ending up half smashing against the wall. The werewolf is sprawled out on the floor, a pool of dark red gathering around his face. Those yellow eyes penetrating, dulled. I stare at it completely in shock and disbelieving. My shoulders tremble and I begin to laughing to myself hysterically. No, I didn't crack. It's relief.

_I_ had just defeated _that_. Standing there next to the massive creature, I'm simply happy to be alive. Taking a good look at the werewolf, I see that it has human palms on the underside of its claws, same with its feet, and crazily hairy legs like Grizzly Adams', but still human.

The shock of surviving is starting to wear off and I suddenly feel overwhelmed by a wave of empathy. I can feel my adrenaline draining from me, I'm sober from that drug. Gradually, I feel the beat of my heart settle to the normal speed. I stare down solemnly at the poor creature. It was an experiment just like me. It could've easily _been_ me. Just another precious, normal baby turned into a frightening disaster, a definite failure. And I had killed it…

My body feels incredibly sore all over. It's time to asses my injuries. I notice that my knuckles had lost the first couple layers of skin and are bleeding. My arm has a thick covering of blood dripping down it in red branches that reminds me of ketchup, but I am NOT eating that. One of my pants legs rolled down and sticks to my leg, clinging onto the wet wound that's there. My blood drenched my whole leg, my socks and shoes stained dark red. It's limp. I can't even feel it anymore, which can be good or bad. _That was going to leave an interesting scar._

I scan the 'battle room' to see that the white room is not so white anymore. Hey, neither am I. Between the scuff marks and red blood and bodily fluids, the place looked very 'modern art'.

Out of nowhere, I daze off, eyes staring at the ground. My body feels weak, like a rag doll standing on its own, about to collapse onto the floor. So drowsy, so dizzy… This confirms that I'm without a doubt, dead tired and losing more blood. I just want to fall asleep.

Cue the sirens. I stagger from the ear-drum-piercing noise. Large beacons flashed and rotated on the top of the megaphones, coloring everything red.

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry I haven't written in a long, long time. Between work, school, cleaning for Italian guests, and writer's block, I finally got this chapter done. I also haven't really loved my last couple chapters, so I'm starting back a little bit. I've got new ideas for the next chapter I can't wait to write… when I have the time. If you're confused right now, this is another dream sequence, remember: Max is unconscious. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! Any ideas of your own would be great! **

**Peace out.**


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